The Morality of the Young
by Renevatio
Summary: AU. James and Lily surive attack on Oct. 31, 1981. They take Dumbledore's advice and still give Harry to the Dursleys. How will Harry grow up knowing that his parents willingly gave him up and they try to take him back into their life?
1. Chapter 1

**The Morality of the Young**

**Author's Notes:** **Well hello dear readers! This is a new Fanfic story that I started. It will be AU because James and Lily will live. But Harry won't be living with them. The first couple of chapters will focus on the emotional side of the characters and how they care for Harry. Harry will be in this chapter and in the next one, probably two. However, after that he won't be reintroduced until the sixth chapter, maybe a little earlier depending on how the story comes out.**

**I had a typo in here stating that Harry was three months old when he is in fact 15. I have corrected that. A thank you to all the reviewers who brought it to my attention.**

**Chapter 1: Vanishing Act**

All-Hallow's Eve. Halloween. Celebrated by muggles (non-magic folk), where kids and adults would dress up as all sorts of fantastical creatures. They would then move from house to house, their faces gleaming with joy as they shouted "Trick or Treat!" Waterfalls of delicious candy in a myriad of flavors would fall into their buckets or bags of Halloween booty (chocolate treasure). Despite the ghoulish appearances of the houses, streets, and people themselves, this holiday was a cause for celebration.

However, this day was not celebrated by all people. In particular, a large group, hidden from the rest of the world; wizards, witches, places of magic and wonderment. For them, this day was a curse, a curse brought down upon them by one man. Lord Voldemort was his name, born Tom Marvolo Riddle, but that name was known only to a few. Every year on the same date, October 31, the day of All-Hallow's Eve, Lord Voldemort would commit an atrocious act in the world of wizardry. Acts that frightened children, made adults quiver in their shoes, infants cry long into the night. Each year, he would strike fear into the hearts of many, expanding his control over all of them in his desire to rule all. They would range from the burning of a village, to the murder of a high profile member in society, to the death of a powerful family, each year was different.

This year Lord Voldemort had taken special care into planning his day of fear. Ever since hearing the words of a prophecy, a prophecy that spoke of a possible savior, a possible end to his reign of conquest, he had plotted. He had spent a month in his chambers, running over the idea of who would be the child spoken in the prophecy. There were only two to be chosen from, but each had the power to take him to Death's Door.

On one side of Fate's coin, you had Neville Longbottom, child to Frank and Alice Longbottom. The parents were of pureblood, their entire family being a wizard, each one powerful as well. They commanded wealth and respect in the wizarding society. The parents had presented a thorn in his side for several years. Frank Longbottom was a servant of the people, an Auror dedicated to fighting the forces of the dark. Alice Longbottom shared the same profession as her husband and together they had managed to escape his wrath three times.

On the other side, you had Harry James Potter, son to James and Lily Potter. The father was of old stock, dating back to the time of the founders, a line that was powerful in every way. The mother, however, was a degrading animal, a filthy muggleborn, but she was immensely strong in her spell casting and she had a sharp mind to add to the matter. James Potter was also an Auror and quite possibly the best in his field. Lily Potter was not, but she was a constant on the battlefield, her powerful spellwork shielding any weakness that her husband had in battle. Those two had also defied him three times, their child fitting into the prophecy as well.

His first instinct was to choose the Longbottom child. His parents were magical, making him a pureblood, something that in his propaganda stated that those of wizard descent were stronger. But then, he considered himself. He was not a pureblood as many believed, he was half and half, his mother a witch and father a muggle. He was a half-blood and he was stronger than everyone else. This led him to the Potter boy, he had strong magical parents and the reports that he received from his spy indicated that the boy was unusually intelligent for his age and had already shown fits of accidental magic.

Voldemort believed that this child, the half-blood, would bring him to ruin. With his decision made, Voldemort called his servant, Wormtail otherwise known as Peter Pettigrew, friend to James and Lily Potter. The sniveling excuse of a wizard appeared before him, bowing and scraping at his knees, his head touching the hem of his lordly robes.

"Wormtail…," he spoke in a threatening hiss, promising retribution should his orders not be followed, and "…You are now the secret keeper of the Potter's home, correct?" A barely audible whimper escaped Wormtail's lips as he nodded his head. "Then reveal the secret to me. The end of the Potter's is at hand and you shall be justly rewarded for your part in securing their downfall," said Voldemort in a voice as cold as ice.

A peach-colored piece of parchment passed from Wormtail's fingers to his own. Pinching it between his thumb and forefinger, he raised the piece of writing to his eyes and mouthed the words aloud, "_The Potter Residence can be found at Godric's Hollow."_ His eyes went back to Wormtail, "Follow me." He rose from the high-backed chair that was situated in his personal chambers and glided over towards the antechamber where all his death eaters were assembled.

Stepping onto the dais in the middle of the hall, Voldemort spread his arms out in a godly gesture and spoke in a voice of ice, a low whisper that still managed to be heard by all, "Tonight, my loyal death eaters, our time is at hand. Tonight, my reign of conquest shall be assured by the time the sun rises for the new day. Once the night is over, I, Lord Voldemort, shall lead all of you into the prosperity of the world. We shall no longer share our right, our privilege of magic with those of mundane ancestry."

A loud cheer rang throughout the room, the death eaters throwing décor into the wind as they whooped and hollered, reveling in the joy of their master's words. Voldemort watched on with a grand smile, his future as ruler of the wizarding Britain almost complete. He raised his arms again in a gesture to quiet the crowd and spoke once more, "I leave now to ensure our success. I shall be back within the hour and then we can go on a raid to let loose all that energy that you may have." Another terrifying smile before he swept away from the crowd, his long, black robes billowing.

A wave of his wand and he opened the doors made of black Damascus steel. He strode through and then closed them with another flick, his incantations silent, testament to his power. He stepped out of the manor where his forces were and breathed in the night air through the slits that were nostrils on his face. There was dark magic in the air, as if the magic could sense his intentions and what was about to happen on this night. With a small cackle Lord Voldemort apparated towards Godric's Hollow.

* * *

James and Lily Potter were in the living room of their small cottage, playing with their young child, Harry James Potter. Since it was Halloween they decided to dress him up in a costume. James wanted to put him into a little stag outfit, complete with horns and hooves, and call him Prongs Jr. The idea was immediately shot down by Lily who didn't want another generation of the Marauders, a group of James and his best friends who played pranks during their school days, existing in her lifetime. 

So he asked her what she wanted and she responded with misty eyes and her eyes clasped in front of her, "A fairy. He has the dark hair and those radiant eyes. He'd be a perfect fairy."

James made a disgusted face which didn't go unnoticed by Lily when she smacked him upside the head.

"Well why don't we ask Harry?" a beaming James asked.

Lily only gave him an incredulous look, "He's only fifteen months old James. He won't understand what you're asking him.

"Well there's no harm in trying," said James as he puffed out his chest. He picked up Harry and held him at arm's length, "What do you want to dress up as little Harrykins?"

Harry, who had been giggling and smiling for most of the evening, suddenly gained something that could be described as a thoughtful look. He didn't answer for several moments and James started to pout childishly while Lily was looking smug, when Harry started giggling again. James throwing a little hopeful glance at Harry asked the same question. He thought he didn't understand when Harry started clawing his hands in the air and made meowing noises.

"See my Lilyflower? Harry wants to dress up as a cat," giving her a smug grin, he looked back at Harry, "and I think I know which one too." He had read Harry a bedtime story that involved a child who befriended a panther. Harry had started to nod off during the story until the part with the baby panther came up. Harry was too excited to sleep after that.

James set Harry down on the changing table and took out his wand. He changed the color of his bootie to all black, added a tail, and made it furry. He pulled the hood over Harry's head and added some ears onto the top of it. Painting his nose black and giving him whiskers, James held up Harry for Lily's examination. The smile he got showed that he had done a good job and with Harry making giggling noises, James was sure of it.

For the remainder of the evening, Harry tried to crawl around from place to place, making the same meowing noises that his father had made during the story. He went up to his mum and nuzzled her leg, feeling a sense of warmth coming from her. He felt himself being picked and being held to her chest. He gave a toothless grin and burrowed further into her chest, still making small meowing noises.

James wrapped an arm around Lily, pulled her in close and kissed the top of her head. He rested his head against hers and looked down on Harry who was busy putting one of his paws in his mouth, laughing as the fur tickled his lips and chin. He smiled at the sight of his son, glad that he was fighting in the war to bring about an age of peace for his son to grow up in.

He was about to ask Lily if she wanted to tuck Harry in for the night when he felt some of the wards around the cottage sound off in his head. He heard Wormtail squeaking, telling him that someone had gotten through the repelling wards around the cottage. He heard Padfoot's bark, telling him that it was a wizard that had gotten inside the wards. He heard Moony's howl, telling him that the wizard had threatening intentions towards his family.

Lily looked to James having heard the same alarms inside her head. Her expression turned fearful, a single tear rolling down her cheek as she looked from him to Harry who had grown quiet as if sensing the evil in the air.

"Lily, take Harry and run. Emergency portkey is in the nursery. Get it and go," said James in an amazingly calm voice. He felt Lily's lips crashing on his in a desperate, possibly final kiss. He tasted the honey on her lips from some candy she had been eating earlier. He broke away from her and turned to Harry.

Taking him away from Lily, James cradled him in his arms, savoring the joy that he felt from holding him. He felt Harry grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and snuggling closer into him. Pulling back, James placed a tender kiss on his forehead and handed him off to Lily. With a flick of his wrist, his wand shot into his hand, a familiar sense of power washing over him.

He heard footsteps running up the stairs, knowing that Lily was going to get Harry out of here. He closed his eyes and brought to the front of his mind an image of what he wanted his future to be. Lily, Sirius, Remus, Peter, all of his friends and Harry standing in a clear garden. All of them talking and laughing, having a good time with their children and grandchildren. He opened his eyes and made a determined wish to himself to see that dream come true.

* * *

Voldemort arrived in front modest cottage, the shingles in cinnamon brown, the body of the house in white, sides of the building slightly covered in ivy. He felt a wicked grin comes across his face as he curled his hand around his yew wand, a feeling of cold and sadistic pleasure exuding from the tip into his hand and filling his body. His magic was dark and ready for his call, anxious to bring about chaos. 

He took slow measured steps towards the door. Right when he was in front of it and contemplating whether to knock or to just blast the door down, he felt a rise of magic from opposite the door. He turned to the side and avoided the door that was sent careening of its hinges and flying for forty feet, breaking into debris when it fell.

Stepping inside the house to come face to face with James Potter, his wand pointed at his face, Voldemort grinned manically, a row of sharp inhuman teeth glittering in the moonlight,

"Hello James. You should be honored that I have come to personally kill you, your wife, and your _savior_," said Voldemort in a malicious hiss, the last word carried with a note of disdain.

"It was Peter. Peter was the one who's been betraying us all along," the hate in James voice was unmistakable. His face carved into a scowl before falling back into the detached and calculated look he had adopted in the Auror corps.

Voldemort sent a severing curse at James' neck that was blocked with golden shield. He grinned, "Is it amusing Potter to learn that one of your so called 'Marauders' has betrayed you to the rightful cause?" With a wave of his hand he sent a powerful banishing curse at Potter aiming to send him towards a wall and break his spine. He raised an eyebrow in amusement when Potter sent a spell towards the wall behind him. His amusement quickly vanished when he discovered it was a rebounding charm that made him bounce back towards himself when the banishing curse hit Potter. He didn't expect for him to turn into a stag mid-flight and come crashing into him with his head.

He grunted as he took the force of the blow in his chest. Landing next to the debris of the ruined door, Voldemort hastily transfigured them into sharp stakes and sent them flying towards Potter. He dodged most of them but one hit his left leg.

Turning back into his human form, James pulled out the wooden stack and cauterized the wound with a fire hex. He spun his wand in a circle, and then brought it down in a vicious slash, the tip of the wand touching the ground. Two reams of raised earth went towards Voldemort. With a wide ranged explosion hex, James blew the two mounds to rubble, coupled with another wide-range spell, he sent the sharp rubble flying towards Voldemort.

With a snarl, Voldemort was able to deflect the majority of the barrage, save a few that grazed his thighs and shoulders. Calling up his magic in his empty hand, he fired a piercing curse at James chest. It was blocked but he didn't count on the wave of raw energy to come slamming into the exact same spot of the last curse. The shield didn't hold and James was sent careening through the air, breaking through the roof of the patio.

Standing on shaky legs with numerous cuts on his face and back from the jagged pieces of wood, James took aim and fired a light-oriented concussion hex that would put the victim into a coma for several days. He had to roll onto his back as the spell was coming back from Voldemort's barrier. He stood up and was about to take fire again, when another piercing curse came at him, hitting the palm of his wand hand. His grip on his wand slackened for a moment, but it was enough for Voldemort to hit him with combination disarmament and flinging hex to send him back into the house, his body knocking over some of the furniture pieces.

He turned his head only to have Voldemort's wand pointing at his eye. The wand was replaced with Voldemort's snake-like face, the slits flaring slightly, his lips in a cruel grin. He felt his arms and legs spreading, his body being lifted up into the air and pinned to a wall.

"Wonderful James! Just wonderful, you are creative and inventive when it comes to dueling. A combination of numerous charms and hexes to create physical attacks, which is a very ingenious way of dueling. Too many of my followers just focus on spells alone and don't take into account how to use a battlefield. Seeing how powerful you are in both magic and mind, I make you an offer. I shall leave you alive, if you take my mark and swear your loyalty to me."

For a response James spat a mixture of spittle and blood into his face. Voldemort ran a hand down his face, wiping away the mess, "I should kill you for that and for what you have done in the past, but alas that is not enough for all the trouble you have caused me. I shall take great pleasure in breaking the minds of you and your wife after I kill your beloved son," said Voldemort in an icy voice. Before James could respond he was hit with a dark-oriented concussion hex that left him in a deep sleep like its light-oriented counterpart, the main difference that nightmares would occur in the victim's mind.

Smiling in satisfaction, Voldemort looked around the house until he saw a set of stairs. Climbing them in a slow methodical pace, he felt his blood rushing, his magic coming up waiting for his command, his skin prickling with anticipation. Reaching the 2nd floor, he proceeded to open each door, checking for Lily Potter and the child.

Opening the last door on the right, he found himself in a nursery, the walls painted a light green, clouds and flying animals moving along the scenery. The innocence of it all brought a sneer to his face. His eyes went to the middle of the room to see Lily Potter frantically searching amongst a pile of toys for what he assumed to be a portkey. He fired a harmless curse that sailed past her ear to gain her attention. She turned around and Voldemort wasn't disappointed when he saw the look of fear on her face. She went for her wand, but with a silent casting it went flying into his hand.

Wandless, Lily moved in front of the crib, protecting her child, "You won't have my son."

He laughed cruelly and waved his wand, pushing her aside. He took one step towards the child, but Lily had already moved back in front of it, defending her son. He snarled, "It appears that you do not understand the mercy that I gave you. I pushed you aside, but you decided to come back and defy my wishes. You shall suffer the same fate as your husband."

Another dark-concussion hex was fired, this one aimed at Lily. Her last thoughts before she was hit were that of a dead husband and a wordless prayer that her son would live.

Another smile on his face, this one only wider in proportion, Voldemort turned his head to noise coming from the crib. The child, who had been silent up to this point, began to emit small sobs, somehow aware that something had happened to his parents. Peering into the crib, crimson eyes met emerald ones. For a moment, Voldemort swore he recognized some emotion in the child's eyes, some type of recognition in who he was looking at.

"That accursed prophecy says that you have the power to beat me. With your death, I will be assured that I will live and my conquest shall take place. However, I could raise you as my own and have the wizarding world's supposed savior being trained by the darkest wizard of its age. Tell me Harry, would you like to live with me?" Voldemort cackled lightly as he saw the boy's eyes narrow in something akin to anger, "Why young Harry, you are a smart one. I shall enjoy taking you and tainting your magic to my deeds. You shall grow to hate your family and to love me."

Voldemort laughed harder after his diatribe. He slipped a hand into the crib and held it over the child's face. He started to run it down his face, but immediately pulled it back with an angry hiss. He looked at the fingertips and saw they were burned slightly. He called up his magic and became shocked when the magic refused to accumulate in the fingertips of his burned hand. He looked at the child to see nothing out of the ordinary, but his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Well Harry it seems you refuse the mercy of Lord Voldemort. It is a shame, you could have grown to be a powerful wizard," said Voldemort in an icy hiss. He leveled his wand at the forehead of the boy and called up his magic again. The base of the wand drew power from his body, the wand lighting up in an eerie green glow. He looked into the eyes of the child and thought to himself how similar they looked to the color of the killing curse before he spoke, "Avada Kedavra!"

He gave an inward shout of triumph as the curse struck the boy, but quickly gave into caution then horror. The curse hit the boy true, but the boy's magic sprung around him in a golden glow rebounding the curse back into the wand. It traveled the length of the wand and into his hand. He gave a soundless scream as the curse traveled through his body like ice water in his veins. He looked down to his chest to his magic trying to combat the curse. Another scream as he felt pain worse than the crucio as his soul and magic were being split. His last thought before he vanished, his spirit being cast far away into the realms of magic was the power of the boy and how he turned his own spell back against him.

* * *

His head hurt. He was crying but his mum wasn't anywhere near him. Where was she? Where was his dad? He made the meow sound that his dad laughed at, but nobody came. He sobbed harder as he heard nothing. He couldn't feel them like earlier. Rubbing his eyes, he only cried more as no one answered him. He opened his eyes to see something black on the ground where that scary man had been. 

His eyes looked to the right and he saw his mum lying on the ground. She was asleep. He stopped crying. He went to the bars of the crib and called for her again. She didn't move. He shook the bars. He wanted to get out. He wanted to go to his mom. He sobbed again and he felt his hands glow warm. He opened his eyes and saw the bars were gone. He crawled over to his mum and curled up on her chest, sniffling. He burrowed into her chest. She didn't wrap her arms around him. He started crying again. He fell asleep soon after.

**A/N: I hoped you liked. I would like to think I gave a good battle scene. I've never been particularly good at doing the spell casting. I pride myself on doing more physical battles, hitting, sword fighting, more brutal actually. I have trouble finding spells and effects I want. **

**I know the ending might be sad. I hope I made baby Harry's emotions clear. I also hope you like the part with how James, Lily, and Harry when they were trying to get his costume.**

**Since this is my third HP story, update order is as follows; King and Queen is my priority, followed by You'll never have to, then this one. They've all been updated/posted. So next comes King and Queen and then follow the order. I'll try to update on a constant basis.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Morality of the Young**

**A/N: Sorry it took me more than a week. I was helping my pop retile the bathroom floor and walls. Well, this chapter focuses on Sirius, Remus, and Dumbledore. Like I said earlier (at least I think so) I won't have Dumbledore be that super evil, manipulative bastard that you see in a good amount of fics here. I've always believed that he does have Harry's best interest at hand, but he also thinks that the life of the world is more important than a sole individual's happiness. Oh also, a thanks to Sweet Southern Gal for pointing out that I made Harry a three month old, when he is in fact over a year old.**

**Chapter 2: Warning Bells**

Sirius Black was an impressive man to look at. Standing at 6'4", with shoulder length black hair that framed his angular face, his sharp blue-grey eyes that sizzled with an intensity that few could stand, he was quite the ladies man in his years at Hogwarts. The four years after that had only made him look better, but he had also acquired a dangerous tint to his aura that came from his line of work.

An Auror in the wizarding world, equivalent to the muggle policemen, Sirius' eyes that usually shined with joy and amusement, quickly became as cold as ice, a small sense of well-honed danger exuding off his person. Coupled with his dark, roguishly handsome looks, Sirius appealed to an extraordinary amount of woman who were looking for a good time and the men easily backed off as if he were an alpha male in a wolf pack.

After his stay at Hogwarts was over, Sirius was looking to a very bright future. He could have had practically any woman he wanted, something that he prized greatly, and he was sure to have a very promising career in his job. With his best friend, James Potter, as his partner, they were quickly establishing themselves as some of the top Aurors. Life couldn't have gotten better. And he was right in a way, it only got worse.

In the midst of a war with the vile and vicious Lord Voldemort, people looked at everyone with suspicion. Everyone was suspect in being in league with the dark tosser, especially from the alarm of so many people being put under the Imperious Curse that would take over the victim's mind and make them into a slave for the caster. You couldn't distinguish friend from foe. Sirius was one of the people that was looked down upon with the most suspicion.

Coming from a notoriously dark family, Sirius had separated from them and became the sole outcast of the Black family to be on the firm side of the light. He had been sorted into Gryffindor and made friends with James Potter, son of the most Light-sided family. He had become an Auror, taken an oath to defend the people and the innocent, but it wasn't enough.

He had heard the rumors concerning him. That everything he had done was a lie. He was a spy of the He-who-must-not-be-named and that he only became friends with James so he could find out his weak points. James had spoken out against anybody that dared to just even think that those rumors were true, but it didn't stop them from spreading. A few months after that he had been confronted by Barty Crouch Sr., head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Crouch had wanted Sirius to be the poster-boy of a new campaign that was targeted at the dark families to try and sway them over to the light.

He denied it and Crouch had been suspicious of him ever sense. That led to the start of a new rumor, but he ignored it, his reason for denying being the figure head of the campaign was simple. It drudged up old memories of his family and how they only wanted to use him; how they told all the other dark families that if they weren't firm with their children, they would only get a rebellious adolescent who would fight for the light and forsake the ideals of pureblood society.

It had pained him at first because his parents had spent so much time with him during his childhood. Sure they had arguments over how things should be done, but at the end of the day, they were Blacks and they stuck by each other. That all changed when he became a Gryffindor. His parents had basically disowned him as a son; their words which use to be filled with love had become spiteful. He was coined as a plague in the family and they didn't want him infecting his younger brother's mind.

Driving past the thoughts of his family, Sirius focused on how his best friend and wife had to go into hiding because of something Dumbledore had told them. The first day after they went into hiding, Sirius had gone to visit James and Lily and he saw how afraid they were. It shook him to the core that his fearless friend had suddenly become afraid for his life and his family's. He had become their secret keeper and was glad at the faith they had shown in him.

He only lasted a month before he told them to switch to Peter Pettigrew, another long time friend of his and James. With how dangerous his work was, Sirius could have easily been captured by Voldemort's death eaters and he could have given away the location of James family through means of torture. Persuading them to switch to Peter, Sirius was able to throw himself back into work with renewed vigor. That only lasted one more month.

The air of suspicion had grown too heavy, the rumors too many in number to be ignored. He had been fired from his job a week ago and with James in hiding, there was no one to back him up. With nothing to do for the past week, Sirius had taken to frequenting a muggle bar called "The Dragon's Cove".

No wizards and witches ever stepped into the bar, no rumors to accuse him of betraying the Light; he could just drown his troubles away in alcohol. Reaching the bar, Sirius stopped to admire the neon sign of a dragon belching fire to spell out the name of the bar. Stepping past the wooden door with a brass dragon knocker, Sirius moved into the low lighted bar and sat down on one of the stools at the counter.

Signaling down Charlie the bartender, Sirius ordered a double shot of whiskey, paying more to keep the bottle there. Downing the shot in a smooth, experienced motion, Sirius winced at the slight burn down his throat. Not as powerful as fire whiskey but it got the job done. Looking around the bar, he remembered how in his first time here, he thought it was a wizard bar. The name and the look of the bar only added to his suspicions.

Each table of the bar had an art design of a different wizarding dragon; a Chinese fireball, Hungarian Horntail, several different types of water dragons from the north, etc. Even the walls were covered in runes of different designs and cultures. The entire bar screamed magic, but the owner wasn't a wizard. Every single customer was a muggle; no magic had ever been cast in the bar.

Sirius had this handy talent from one of his Black ancestors that gave the ability to sense if someone was magical or not. It was what led him here in the first place because there was no magical person within miles. He had asked the owner where he got the idea for the bar and he had said that he found this interesting book in the trash bins at King's Cross Station. Loving how each dragon had such detail and that there were detailed pictures in it, he came with the outlook for his bar.

He downed another shot of whiskey, laughing softly to himself at the idea of a muggle holding a book of dragons that came from the wizarding world and that he thought it was just a fictional book. He sobered up when he realized that they would all be acquainted with magic once Voldemort got their hands on them, leaving them quaking in fear.

Sirius jumped when someone appeared in front of him. Looking up into the face of an attractive brunette, with a round face, rosy and luscious lips, and pale blue eyes, Sirius swallowed the lump in his throat as he tried to articulate something through the alcohol induced haze, "Uum…hello?"

She just grinned, flashing him a mischievous smile, "The names Astrid. I'm Charlie's trainee bartender. What about you?"

Sirius allowed himself a chuckle and a smile, "Well Astrid, the names Sirius. Did you know…that your name means…"star" in Greek?"

She laughed a little and leaned in towards him, giving him a slight view of her impressive cleavage that could be seen from her low cut halter top, "And you're named after the Dog Star constellation. Quite the coincidence, huh?"

Lifting his gaze from her ample bosom, Sirius stared into her eyes and answered smoothly, well as smoothly as one can when under the influence, "Well my pretty star,…it is quite the coincidence," He flashed her a roguish grin, "and a very nice one at that."

"I've seen you here for the past week, always ordering a double shot of whiskey, then paying to keep the bottle, and you chug away at that thing like your life depended on it. What's the problem, Mr. Puppy?"

He gave a bark of a laugh like his namesake and answered, "Do bartenders always chat up their customers?"

She gave him another impish smile, but her eyes flashed lightly, "Don't you know that it's the Bartender's Oath to see what's wrong with our customers' lives? We are required to give them sound advice to keep them going through the day. So what's the problem?"

His laughter dried up and he replied somberly, "I lost my job, my friend and his family are being chased by a murderer and I can't do a damn thing to help them.

Astrid gave him a concerned look, "Sucks to be you, Mr. Puppy. You know the guy who's going after your friends?"

"Yeah, I know him. We almost had him one time too. We had him surrounded with fifty guys and he cut us down like nothing. We had to bury forty comrades that week."

She gave him a horrified look, "Forty cops? This one maniac took out forty cops? What the hell, does this guy have some magical powers or something?"

He wanted to laugh for her hitting it right on the nose, but he couldn't confirm her words. He didn't bother to correct her assumption that he was a cop, in a way he used to be. He answered, "Something like that. He gets away every time."

"What about your friend? He being chased by the same person?" Seeing Sirius nod, Astrid rambled on, "What did your buddy do to get this guy chasing after him?"

"Me and James were becoming the best in the biz. We had managed to chase him down a couple of times, but it was always James that got to him. James has been the one that's been able to take the guy out of commission for a couple of weeks at a time. The murderer though, started to seek James out personally. James just had a kid, so he left the force and went into hiding with his wife."

Astrid placed a hand on Sirius cheek, her fingertips brushing the week's worth of stubble. Sirius reined in the impulse to nuzzle her palm. "They'll be all right, Sirius."

He looked up at her and saw real concern swimming in her pale blue eyes. "I hope so. I wouldn't want to see anything happen to them or my godson—" Sirius stopped talking, his eyes widening in horror as he felt the alarms ringing in his head, signifying that someone had broken into James' home. Having placed several wards on James' home, Sirius felt each one shatter into pieces as someone made their way to the property.

Astrid pulled back as Sirius jumped up from his seat and ran out the door, muttering the names of his friend, his friend's wife, and whom she assumed to be their child, his godson.

* * *

Remus Lupin sat in the den of his small cottage in Wales. He was sitting down on a leather chair that had been his grandfathers, his chest bared, his legs covered by his flannel bottoms, rolling the glass bottle of Ogden's finest Fire whiskey between his hands. Staring into the blazing fire of the hearth, Remus let the warmth of the flames seep through his weary body.

Raising the decanter to his lips, Remus took a heavy drink from the bottle, coughing violently as the coarse liquid burned down his throat. Remus was not a heavy drinker, only having tasted Fire whiskey twice, both of those times only being one tiny glass. Tonight however, he was drinking heavily from the bottle, recent turn of events making his life a living hell.

Setting down the large beaker-like bottle in between his legs, Remus ran his calloused fingers through his sandy-colored hair, a few of them a premature grey, as his thoughts wandered to his friends. Things between the Marauders had grown tense. With news of a spy in their network, the friends had become suspicious of each other. It had cut Remus deep when he had heard that he was one of the prime suspects. All they had to go on was that the person was close to James, leaving just him, Sirius and Peter as the possible suspects.

There was no suspicion on Peter for he was far too timid and the general consensus was that he was too much of a stumbling and clumsy person to be a useful spy. Sirius was a possible candidate. Coming from a dark family, known for their pureblood ideals that coincided with Voldemort, people speculated that he had never really turned from his family.

Remus had never believed that Sirius could be the spy. Sirius had always held himself to different ideals than those of his family. He had fought against them numerous times on the battlefield, in particular his cousin Bellatrix Lestrange. Him, Sirius, and James, had been through thick and thin, helping each other whenever they needed it.

To say he was stunned when Sirius accused him of being the spy was an understatement. It had ripped through him that Sirius, a brother in all but blood, accused him of betraying his friends. His reason being that Remus was a dark creature, a werewolf, and that Voldemort had offered him sanctuary and riches for turning death eater.

Remus ran his fingers down his chest, through the numerous scars that littered his young body. Each one had been gained during the transformation, save a few that came from fighting death eaters. He circled a bite mark on his side that came from Sirius during one of his more dangerous transformation when Sirius and James had to subdue him. Did Sirius just forget all they had been through? Remus couldn't wrap his head around the Sirius' way of thinking.

He had gone to James at Godric's Hollow seeking some insight into what Sirius was thinking. James had opened the door, slowly, wary of who could be calling at the hour. Seeking to reassure him, Remus called him out by his Marauder name. James stepped out, his wand held at his side, ready at a moment's notice to fire a spell. Becoming tense, Remus asked James if he thought he was the spy. James had told him that he didn't know and that he, Remus, should just leave. With the full moon only two days away at the time, Remus' wolfish tendencies were more visible and he snarled at James for his ignorance in not believing that he was not the spy.

His action just proved to him how much of a monster he was. James had raised his wand, leveling it between his eyes and told him forcefully to leave, citing that he couldn't have a werewolf near his wife and son. James had immediately realized the damage of his words, but it was too late. The damage dealt, Remus left with an angry stride, reaching the end of the wards and apparated away.

Remus gave an angry shout and threw his half empty bottle of Ogden's into the hearth, the fire blazing upwards, the heat rising as the alcohol was consumed by the hungry flames. Running his hands down his face, Remus sighed heavily, unable to believe how horrible his life had become. He should have expected it really.

At the tender age of 4, he had left the security of his home during the night of a full moon. He remembered going through the forest near his childhood home, looking for any animals that were hungry or lost. He soon found himself falling in that category. Losing track of time, Remus started to run back in the general direction of his home, when he heard the howl of a wolf in the distance. He ran as fast as his little legs could carry him, tears streaking down his cheeks in fear of the hungry animal in the distance.

When he reached the edge of the forest he breathed a sigh of relief before he was tackled to the ground, a large pair of fangs sinking into his right shoulder blade. He cried out in pain as he felt the fangs break his skin. His father had rushed out at his yell and chased away the werewolf. He remembered the sandalwood scent of his father cradling him in his arms, the familiarity and safety of his father's arms, calming him down. From that point on, he didn't expect anything from his life.

He thought that had changed when he met his friends. Brash and arrogant they approached him, trying to make him their friend. They had broken through the shy shell that he had around him and he would become just as devious as them when he was in their presence. Their friendship only became stronger, their ties turning to steel, as they found out his secret and saw the person behind the wolf, not the savage monster.

He had come close to crying from happiness when they all became animagus in order to spend time with him during the full moon. He had gained a pack; albeit a strange one, but he had a pack nonetheless to keep him in check should the wolf ever try to harm others. Then when James son, Harry had been born, Remus had never been happier to be introduced as an honorary uncle to young Harry. He had a family again, his parents and grandparents having passed away during the war and during his stay at Hogwarts. He felt wanted and he felt that his life was truly looking bright.

And then, just like so many other things in the war, it had been taken away. His friends had grown wary of him; werewolves were being harassed more than ever, it was typically impossible for him to get a steady paying job. He was startled from his dark thoughts when he heard a howl in the distance. The first thought in his mind was that a full moon wasn't for two days, and then he placed where the sound had come from.

His personal wards that he had placed on his friend's home during their first day of hiding. They had been breached. Rushing to grab his wand, not even bothering to put on a shirt or even footwear, Remus turned on the spot and apparated away to Godric's Hollow.

* * *

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts for 30 years, Leader of the Light since 1945, the year he defeated the Dark Lord Grindewald, sat behind his desk in his ritzy leather chair complete with wooden armrests and an attached footrest, his long, graceful fingers steeped together under his chin.

Tonight he wore a set of robes his great-grandfather, Brian Dumbledore, for whom he was named after, had left him as a parting gift before he left for the next great adventure. They were a deep, dark blue, the color of the celestial sky. Numerous stars glittered along the robes, comets and falling stars adorning the sleeves of the robes, a large crescent moon on the back of them.

Dropping his hand, Albus ran his fingers along the rim of his pensieve, tracing the various runes that were engraved along the bowl. Each rune had been added by a member of his family, a previous owner of the very bowl, each one putting their own protection on the memories contained within. If he wanted, he could merely tap a certain rune on the bowl, whisper a key phrase and the memories held within the pensieve would change to the memories of the person who had engraved the rune that he had tapped.

It was the most treasured item in the Dumbledore line, a way to preserve the spirit and life of the family and for the heirs to learn from the mistakes of their elders. Albus had lost count of how many times he, had looked upon the actions of his families, seeking guidance and counsel in his life.

Sighing, Dumbledore tapped the latest rune and whispered, "A lone candle shall hold the dark at bay." The rune glowed in a fiery blue, lighting up the rest of the bowl. The silvery liquid essence of the bowl gained a bluish tint, signifying that the memories had changed. Dipping his head towards the bowl, Dumbledore was sucked into the memory of his wedding day from his father's eyes.

The year was 1910, January 1st, the dawn of the new year. Current Albus looked at his father, Marcus Albric Dumbledore, the strong and powerful man from whom he had inherited the long silvery beard and his jovial nature. He was wearing robes that were the opposite to the ones that current Albus wore, the sun and cloudless skies decorating the robes that his father wore.

Following his fathers gaze, Albus looked at the couple at the head of the ceremony. His younger self was there, auburn hair let loose, ending at his shoulders, a crisp beard in the same auburn color adorning his face along with the widest smile that he ever remembered having. He was holding hands with his soon to be wife at the time, Illiana.

With long honey-colored hair and the forest green eyes, she was a sight to behold. Her cheeks were round and plump, her eyes wide and holding the innocence akin to a child, she was his anchor and refuge during the war against Grindewald. He would come home, bathed in the blood of his enemies that he had been forced to kill, and she would just soothe his troubles away. She was so innocent that he strived to protect her, to have her live in a world without war.

He saw his younger self, tears of joy streaking down his cheeks as the ceremony ended and he kissed Illiana. He chuckled to himself when Illiana threw her arms around his younger version, turning the chaste kiss into a more passionate one. He turned to his father to see him laughing boisterously amidst the catcalls and loud whistles. Pulling himself back from the memory, Albus settled back in his chair, one of the birthday gifts he had received from his wife.

Putting his head in his hands, Albus let the memory of her death wash over him. He had been captured by Grindewald personally, put into the lowest dungeons of his castle, chained to the wall, as Grindewald's Walpurgis Knights tortured him. They tried every single method that they could come up with, but Albus never faltered, never revealed any crucial information to the war effort. Nothing they had done could break him.

It was on the day of June 6, 1945, the break of dawn that Grindewald came strolling into the torture chamber. Albus steeled himself, ready for any assault that his foe planned to use. His body was shook to the core, when Illiana was dragged in to the chamber by her hair, and then dumped unceremoniously at his feet. In exchange for his wife's life, Albus would just have to give all the information that Grindewald wanted.

Albus gave it without a seconds hesitation, the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, it's members, where they lived, their plans for future attacks. He gave them everything they knew. Albus had sighed with relief when Grindewald seemed please. He had spoken for his wife to be freed and her life spared. Grindewald only stared into his eyes, smiling grimly before he lifted Illiana's head by her hair, baring her neck, and then with a silver dagger with the hilt of a coiling dragon, he sliced her neck from her side to side, cutting through the sinew and bone.

Rage flooded his senses at seeing his wife, gurgling, her blood spewing from her neck and mouth as she tried to cry for help. Helpless, he watched her fall face first into a pool of her own blood. Looking up at Grindewald, Albus saw him smiling maniacally which only served to further his rage. With nothing to live for and nothing to hold him back, Albus let loose with all of his magic.

He remembered vividly the battle between them. Without his wand and stave, Albus had flung raw, wild magic straight from his hands aiming to destroy his foe. He remembered the sheer terror on Grindewald's face, the fear as he faced him without any restrictions. Grindewald had carelessly summoned his followers into the direction of Albus' magical blasts, they only served as cannon fodder as they were either torn asunder or thrown to the barristers of the castle, breaking their bodies in half.

They had come to a halt at the center of the castle, each of them situated at one end of the emblem of the Walpurgis Knights. Albus was standing on the tip of spiked tail of the dragon, with Grindewald standing at its head. A baleful gaze locked onto a fearful one, Albus blue eyes glowing with a stormy light that made them the color of cyan. With a shout of his wife's name, he spread his arms wide, summoning his magic to him and then flung it at his foe, watching as he was turned to dust before his very eyes, the ashes themselves burning away to nothingness.

His children and brother had found him in the remains of the castle, cradling Illiana's body to his chest, silently crying as he uttered sweet nothings into her ear. After the war, his children went overseas to America, unable to be in the homeland where there mother had died, claiming that everything reminded them of her. He saw them off with his best wishes, knowing full well their pain. His brother had remained by his side, taking ownership of the Hog's Head in Hogsmeade in order to keep a close on him.

Shaking his head slowly to dispel the melancholy thoughts, Albus took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. Occupied with the vestiges of his memories, he did not hear the knocking at his door, his head still cast down as Minerva McGonagall entered into his office.

He could sense that she was on the surge of a rant, no doubt concerning something over the Slytherins and her Gryffindors, but she spoke no words. He looked up and in a slow, tired motion, replaced the crescent shaped glasses onto the bridge of his nose.

"Minerva my dear, what brings you into my office at this late hour?"

From the light sided McGonagall family, Minerva was one of the greatest fighters the light ever had to offer. Creative and ingenious with her usage of transfiguration, she was a storm that rolled across the battlefield in these dark times. In fits of anger, her clipped Scottish brogue would come through her accent and her forest eyes would darken. She reminded him in so many ways of Illiana, but she was also in many ways different. While Illiana was gentle and soothing and at sometimes harsh when necessary, Minerva was the exact opposite in disposition.

"Nothing of much importance, Albus, just a detention that I had to go over with you. Are you well, Albus?"

"I am fine my dear. I was merely dwelling on my past and the demons that are in them."

They fell into a companionable silence after that, sipping cups of Earl Grey, Albus' favorite tea. He offered her a lemon drop, but she refused like everyone else did. She took the biscuit that he offered instead. They covered topics concerning the school and its students, the shining stars on the Gryffindor Quidditch team and other various things. Topics soon strayed to the war.

"Albus." He lifted his head at her worried tone. Looking into eyes that reminded him so much of his wife, he beckoned for her to continue, "Will it end soon?"

Recalling the words of the prophecy that he had heard from Sybil Trelawney, Albus nodded his head and spoke in a soothing tone, "I am not sure if the war will be over within the year, but it will end. I am sure of it." His thoughts strayed to the raven-haired child with emerald eyes brighter than Illiana's. He was there at the birth of James Potter's child and he remembered a lone tear falling down his cheek as James introduced him to young Harry as an honorary grandfather.

The child had looked up at him inquisitively for one so young, shouted happily and grabbed the bottom of his long, silvery beard with a childish giggle. He also remembered Lily Potter introducing Minerva as Harry's grandmother. He recalled the instant that when that happened, Minerva took Harry into her arms, her face softening.

He felt a hand resting on his arm, the weathered fingers curling around his elbow. Looking up at Minerva's worried face, he answered, "Just thinking of my honorary grandson, or more specifically, our grandson."

"Ah, yes. He does seep into your thoughts from time to time, doesn't he?"

"Yes, he truly is an extraordinary child." Albus had been holding Harry, when the child's aura became visible for just a moment. He could only describe it as pure magic, the aura a startling white, singing the benevolent power that the child held, rolling around his body like waves crashing against each other in the sea. Albus had merely dropped him from the power that he felt.

"Any word from the Potters, Albus?"

Not missing the concerned tone that his usually stern Transfiguration teacher spoke in, Albus soothed her worries, "I had received a message from the several weeks ago. They are currently well and it seems that Harry is coming into his own, already displaying bouts of intentional magic."

"Intentional magic?! In one so young, Albus?"

"Yes, it seems that Harry wished to have his favorite teddy bear, or in this case his favorite grim-like dog, and summoned him intentionally in order so he can sleep."

"Why Albus, that is remarkable! Are you sure that it was not accidental magic?"

"No Minerva, it was purely intentional. You do recall Sirius' animagus form, correct?" Receiving a nod, he continued, "Sirius had been playing with Harry in his animagus form when Harry became tired. Sirius had transformed back but Harry began to cry. All of a sudden there was a flash of light and Sirius reverted back to his animagus form. After that, Harry had cuddled up into Sirius and slept peacefully. Sirius could not transform back for two days after that event."

Minerva laughed boisterously at Harry's little show of magic, "I take it that Sirius learned how to be in touch with his animal side?"

Before Albus could reply, several instruments on his desk began to activate. The first was a silver pendulum that usually swung to and fro at a sedate pace had begun to swing faster, a sharp whistling cutting through the silence in the office as it swung back and forth, faster and faster. It stopped in its tracks at mid-swing and broke apart. The wards that repelled visitors had been destroyed.

The second was a mirror placed on a pedestal. The mirror began to spin wildly on its axis, an image forming on the reflecting surface. An image of a skull with a snake protruding through its open mouth, shone clearly. The Dark Mark. The symbol of Lord Voldemort's followers. Having taught Lord Voldemort when he was a student at Hogwarts by the name of Tom Riddle, Albus had become intimately known with the signature of his magic and had cast a series of wards that would resonate with his instruments should Tom himself ever show at Godric's Hollow.

"Minerva, go to the hospital wing and inform Poppy to be ready for several patients. Make sure that she has her full stock of potions ready."

"Albus, what is the matter? Has something happened?"

She looked at Albus as he rose to his full height, his back and shoulders straight, his jovial eyes gaining that cold look that he assumed on the battlefield. His aura permeated the room, filling her with a sense of awe.

"It is as I feared, Minerva. The Potters are under attack by Lord Voldemort." And with that he stepped through the hearth, presumably to the Three Broomsticks in order to get past the Anti-Apparition wards at Hogwarts, making his way towards the Potters.

* * *

Sirius arrived at the edge of the wards, dread filling his stomach as he looked at the home of his best friend. Surveying the scene, he saw the wreckage of a battle, splinters of wood lying along the grass, cracked earth, pellets of rock, the grass burned from magical backlash. Running towards the house and stumbling along the wreckage of the battle, he cried out for his friends, for his family.

"JAMES!! LILY!!!" Sirius turned sharply when he heard his own name being called. He looked to see a raging Remus, the full moon being two days away, running up to him at full speed. Before he could say anything, he felt a fist collide with the side of his head, knocking him down to the ground.

Pulling him up by the collar of his shirt, Remus snarled at Sirius, "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH THEM?!! He aimed his wand at Sirius, nearly poking him in the eye.

"We changed secret keepers. It was Peter." Sirius ran his tongue over his split lip, tasting blood. Spitting it to the side, he looked back at his friend, "We have to see if anyone's alive. We have to look for James, Lily, and Harry. We'll settle this later, but we need to look for our family right now."

Standing up on his two feet, Remus kept his wand trained on Sirius, "I don't trust you, Sirius. Not right now, after this attack and after the accusations you've thrown at me. But we need to find them. We'll settle this later."

Sirius stood on his feet and nodded stoically at Remus. Turning back to the house, he kept his wand parallel to his body, the point of the wand tipping slightly; ready to cast shield or hex. Reaching the front porch, they looked at the scorch marks and the hoof-prints that cracked the wooden floor. They looked at each other and thought the same thing. Prongs, James animagus form of a stag had stepped out, probably barreling through Voldemort.

Sensing another magical presence behind him, Sirius turned and fired a powered up version of the net charm taught to Aurors. He watched as a metal net of woven steel, flew out of his wand, coming into contact with a silver colored shield before it was repelled away. He saw another curse headed towards the unknown person from Remus which was reflected as well. He had bone-breaking hex on his lips before he heard the strong, omniscient voice of Dumbledore.

"Show yourselves." Hastily obeying the command lest he be attacked by Dumbledore, Sirius cast a lighting charm to show his face. He saw another light source out of the corner of his eye, telling him that Remus was doing the same.

Dumbledore strolled towards them with slow steady walks, making sure that his power rolled off him in waves, spreading along the grounds. Training his the end of his wand at Remus and the tip of his stave at Sirius, he spoke in calm voice that belied his frantic emotions, "Would you care to explain what you two are doing here?"

"I put up personal wards around the house to tell me if something should happen to them," said Sirius.

"I did the same. They went off in my head about two minutes ago," said Remus.

"This is very troubling indeed, Sirius. You are a known friend of James and it is probable that you would put your own series of wards in order to be sure that they were tucked safe and sound. However, you are the secret keeper and only you can divulge the location. I know for a fact that Lord Voldemort has been here tonight. Would you care to explain?" Albus moved his wand slightly to the left, in between the two pranksters.

Sirius snarled at him, "We switched two weeks ago to Peter. He's the secret keeper not me. I'll clear this up later and I'll take veritaserum to prove it to you, but right now we have to find our friends."

Sending a light brush of legillimency towards Sirius, he picked up the honesty and conviction in the young wizards voice, "Wands about gentleman. I do not know if Voldemort is still on the premises or if he arrived with his followers." Beckoning them to follow him, Albus strolled into the house, stave held diagonally in front of his body, wand held at his left side.

He visibly cringed as he felt the dark magic permeating the air, filling it with a foul and retched stink similar to the rotting corpse of an inferi. The night was silent, not a sound stirring except the slow and steady footsteps from him and his charges. Albus swept his eyes across the room, noting the blood stains on the wall and the indent of said wall, the broken furniture sprawled across the room. Coming across the sight of James Potter, he heard Sirius yell.

"James!" Sirius rushed forward and knelt down next to his longtime friend. Placing his ear on his chest, he relaxed when he heard the beating of his heart. He held his hand in front of him and tapped out the beating of his heart. It was too slow. "Albus, James' heart is beating too slow.

Albus swept forwards and ran his stave over James prone body, murmuring a diagnostic charm. Receiving nothing in return, he began a long string in Latin that would show any mental or physical curses or hexes placed on the body. James glowed a dark purple confirming that he was in a magical induce coma, one that would pray on the subconscious fears of the victim and put them through an endless real of horror.

"He is alive, but we must get him to Madame Promfrey. Sirius, Remus, stay here with James. Stay vigilant for any death eaters that may be lurking about." Taking slow and cautious steps up the stairs, Albus held his breath as the stink of dark magic grew steadily worse. Reaching the upstairs landing, he had to hold back his hacking coughs as the oppressive magic pressed down on his senses. Stepping towards the nursery, Albus hones in on the small cone of light magic that had bled into the darkness.

Waving his wand and stave in a figure eight pattern and chanting in German, Albus dispelled the remaining vestiges of the foul magic, clearing the air, allowing him to take deep steady breaths. His feet shuffling forward, the floorboards creaked as he walked along the wooden floor. Pushing the door open with the butt of his stave, Albus moved in cautiously, a wide-ranged stunning charm on his frayed and chapped lips.

There was nothing, neither the sound of a person breathing, nor the crying of a child. Fearing the worst, he rushed forward to find the body of Lily with what appeared to be a panther resting on her chest. He was ready to cast a charm to move the panther when it's eyes opened, revealing the bright emeralds of his surrogate grandson.

Setting up detection wards around the room, Albus kneeled down in front of Harry, the usually active child, solemn with his cheeks wet, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes.

"Everything shall be all right, little one," said Albus in his calm and grandfatherly voice. Dropping wand and stave, he opened his arms and allowed Harry to rush into them. Cradling him to his chest, he felt Harry grab a fistful of his robes with his pudgy hands, his body racking with silent sobs. Picking up his stave and repeating the incantation he had used on James, Lily lit up in a dark purple, confirming that she was the victim of the same spell that had hit James.

Turning to the extremely intelligent child, Albus spoke, "Harry, did the snake-man come?"

"Scawy. Wight there." Pointing a finger towards the crib itself, Albus let his mage sight come into play. An ability of the Dumbledore line, it allowed them to see any remaining magic that may linger in an area. A dark patch of black mist formed at the front of the crib, a mirror to Tom's magical signature. All that was left were his robes, his wand either misplaced somewhere in the room or a possible follower had taken it.

Standing up to his impressive 6'7" height, Albus conjured a stretcher and levitated Lily onto it. Making sure that Harry was secure and placing a sticking charm onto the part of the robe that the boy had an impressive grip, he levitated the stretcher and walked down the stairs, Lily trailing behind him. Seeing the mournful faces of Sirius and Remus, he assured them that Lily was indeed alive; she had only been placed under the same spell as James.

Sirius pulled out a stuffed toy, that of a stag, and held it out to Dumbledore. After changing it into a portkey, he conjured another stretcher for James and placed him onto it as well. Making sure that everyone had a hold of the stuffed stag and that the Potters were secure, Albus whispered, "Savior." The tell-tale pull of the navel and the party was sucked into a cone of illuminating colors, traveling through to land at the edge of Hogsmeade.

Moving swiftly into the Three Broomsticks, the party ignored the shouts of Madame Rosmerta, the proprietor of the bar, and stepped through the green flames of the hearth, landing in the infirmary at Hogwarts. Shouting for Poppy, Albus placed James and Lily onto separate beds.

Seeing Minerva emerge from the medicinal pantry that held all the potions along with Madame Promfrey, he handed young Harry over to her, watching as her face lined with worry ease at holding the child.

Pulling back the hood of Harry's booty, she ran her hand down his face, trying to seek some reassurance that he was well. Turning to Albus, Minerva locked her forest eyes onto his sapphire colored eyes, devoid of their twinkle, "Albus…Lily, is she…alive?"

"Yes, Minerva, she is alive. Her and James have merely been placed under a dark variant of the concussion hex. With proper care, they shall awake within a day's time."

"And You-know-who? Was he really there?"

Albus nodded solemnly, but he also had a small smile, his eyes twinkling slightly, "He was. And it seems that Harry," he pointed to the child who was asleep, nestled in her arms, "has defeated Lord Voldemort." Moving towards Minerva and Harry, Albus brushed back the light fringe covering the child's forehead, revealing a lighting bolt shaped scar. Tracing the scar lightly so as not to wake the child, Albus unveiled his mage sight and saw the remnants of the killing curse, a shadowy echo forming from the scar.

Feeling a hand placed on his forearm, Albus looked up into Minerva's inquiring gaze, "A child, Albus? A child has defeated the darkest lord since Grindewald? Our grandson has done what you could not?"

Smiling benignly at his grandson, Albus spoke in a hushed whisper, "Yes. He has succeeded where so many others have failed. Tomorrow the entire wizarding world shall be aware of their savior. Harry will be looked upon with reverent stares and his name shall be spoken in all corners of the British Isles and quite possibly anywhere else where the name of Lord Voldemort has been whispered in fear."

Taking Harry out of Minerva's arms, Albus held him close to his chest and turned to see the occupied beds in the hospital wing. James and Lily had been placed side by side, their hair fanned out along the pillows, the crisp and clean hospital sheets covering their bodies up to their chest. Sirius and Remus sat at the ends of their conjoined beds, looking on at their closest friends, their family.

Looking back at Harry as he drifted off to sleep, Albus sighed inwardly, tears pooling in his eyes that were hidden by his glasses, contemplating what he was about to do in order to protect Harry and quite possibly the rest of the world. The prophecy continued to ring in his head; Harry had been marked by Tom and there was a small sense of Tom's magic stemming from Harry's scar.

In his bones, Albus knew that Tom was still alive, probably wandering the earth in a spirit form, devoid of his magic. Half of the prophecy had come to fruition, but it was still not done. This child needed to be safe, needed to be away from the hounds that were reporters and all the people who wished for his death. There were too many followers of Tom's that had sway in the political world and Albus knew that they would be free members of society.

They would hunt this child and attempt to kill him at any opportunity. Albus couldn't let this happen. Albus would keep Harry safe from those who wished him a bodily death. Sitting down in one of the hospital chairs, Albus went over the plan for Harry's safety in his head, the main idea clear in his mind. Harry would have to be away from the wizarding world, he would have to live as a muggle with no knowledge of his world.

With no knowledge of magic, the chances of Harry doing anything to attract attention to him would decrease greatly. Also, the majority of the death eaters were high status purebloods who sniffed in disdain at the mere word of muggle. They would never think to look for the destroyer of their master in the muggle world.

Albus could only think of one place where Harry would be safe. That place lied within the home of a blood relative. James had no one left on his side of the family, but Lily did. Albus would have to contact Petunia Evans, or Dursely he supposed, but first he would have to run his plan by James and Lily. He also could not forget that Sirius and Remus would be just as protective of Harry. Albus deemed to include them in on the conversation, along with Minerva who was also a part of their ragtag family.

Covering Harry with a small blanket, Albus ceased his thinking for the night and merely watched on as his new family huddled around each other to offer protection and love.

**A/N: Well there you go, folks! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and the various perspectives.**

**I changed little things about Sirius past, mainly how his parents had actually loved him before he was put into Gryffindor. I don't know about that thing with the Barty Crouch campaign. Not sure if it was mentioned in canon, but it seemed as something plausible that would happen during the time.**

**Also, I loved working on Albus' past. It is never mentioned and I always wondered what the runes on his pensieve were for. SO, I came up with a neat little trick for it that I haven't seen in any other fic.**

**Now, I want to make this very clear. This story is based on the moral choices behind everybody. And I mean everybody. The Potters, Sirius, Remus, Dumbledore, the Malfoys (whom I plan on introducing in the next chapter with their own perspective), and anybody else that I see fit to put in this story. Each of their actions will be driven by something; a desire to be better than their family, to protect their family, to be safe and secure in their home, to protect the world at all costs. It is important that you know this, no one will be truly evil, not even Voldemort. Well he'll be a little evil, but he does what he does because of actions that I will explain when I finally get to him, which is a long way away.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Morality of the Young**

**A/N: Again, sorry this chapter took so long to get out, but if you've read my other stories, then you know I've had comp problems.**

**This chapter deals with the Potters decision to send Harry to the Dursely's. Prepare for a lot of angst in this chapter and the ones following it. Also, there is some gruesome stuff in this. I warned you if you get squeamish.**

**Now let's get this show on the road!**

**Chapter 3: Night time Decisions**

She was whimpering in her sleep, the constant barrage of nightmares assaulting her mind. Just when she thought she had escaped them, another would come flying at her, wrapping its scaly claws around her wrists, dragging her back in to the dark. The nightmares constantly shifted, never giving her a moment's rest, images coming and going, but they all had one key element. All of them were derived from her fears, her doubts; everything that she thought could ever go wrong.

Currently, she was at home, in the nursery, slowly rocking her son as he suckled on her bosom. She looked over him with warmth and affection that quickly changed to a look of horror as he pulled back from her pale breast, those lovely green eyes of his no longer there. Instead they were black as the night, soulless, a preternatural evil gleaming behind those desolate eyes. The scene fast forwarded to the adult years of her sons life and there her insecurities of being a mother came to fruition. Somewhere along her life, she had failed him and he had become cold and unyielding like the winter ice, a malevolent storm brewing in the dark, laying waste to those that opposed him.

She whined like a dog that had been hit and clutched whatever was in her hands tighter as the scene shifted again. She was in a different room this time, a lone chair situated in the center, a gleaming spotlight hovering over it. The walls were a slate gray, not a single crack lining them. She was forced down into the chair by an imaginary force, a set of manacles clamping over her wrists and ankles. She struggled against the bindings, tears running down her face as the faces of her family, husband, and friends came into view, their faces contorted into ugly scowls and looks of disdain. Their voices, lined thickly with scorn, slung insults at her, bringing up the doubts she had concerning all of them. Were her parents really all right with having a witch in the family? Did James really love her?

She moaned pitifully in her sleep, tossing and turning as the nightmare that visited her most frequently took place. In this one, she never saw herself, or her husband. All she saw was Harry, her son, but this one frightened her the most. The fear she had that something would happen to both, her and James, leaving their son alone. She saw him grow up in the most horrid conditions, with no one ever coming to save him. He grew up alone, never having known love, never having done anything to anyone, and yet he was constantly hounded by the dark. Hellhounds with bodies of black smoke, eyes of gleaming hellfire, nipping at his heels, threatening his life on a daily basis. That was her fear that she wouldn't be there to protect her son.

She was thrown back into a room that seemed to stretch forever, a small cone of light shining down on her, forming a small circle around her. Numerous figures lingered outside the zone, claws of black ice, stabbing into the circle before they were burned. Howls of a primal fury, constantly bouncing off the walls of this damning room that never let her rest save for a few precious moments.

Her dream self furiously shook her head from side to side, gripping it tightly between her hands. She couldn't let the nightmares take over her, it was not an option. She was trapped here, but she wanted to get out, needed to get out. The faces of her family swam in front of her, Harry being the most prominent. She reached out with her dainty fingers towards the ghostly image of her child's giggling face only to have it vanish in a smoky haze as she touched it with her fingertips. She cried out in frustration as the circle of light shrank further, touching the tips of her toes. Standing up right, she held her arms at her sides, hands clenched into fists, the tears continuing to streak down her face.

The image of James and Harry flying low around the garden, her son being carried in James lap, appeared in front of her, once more vanishing into a smoky haze as she tried to reach for it. Before it could vanish completely, she clutched fervidly at the smile of her son, holding onto that image, hoping for a sense of renewed determination to come flowing through her. And it did. Harry was who she had to fight for, fight to get out of her prison, to be there for him, to help him live, to love him and hold him, to sing him happy birthday, and give him his first bowl of ice cream when she decide he was old enough for treats. This is what she needed to break out for, if nothing else but to be with her son.

Her eyes which had been closed shut as she thought of her son, opened in dramatic fashion, her emerald eyes glowing as fiercely as the demons in front of her. She took a small step forward, half of her foot extended past the cone of light. She froze as her fears tried to take hold of her again. She refused to let them take her, to lock her up here, without ever being able to hold her son again. She willed her body to move again and now she stood fully outside the protective light. It vanished the second she did and the demons that were the products of her nightmares surrounded her in a circle, their snake-like tongues tasting the air, claws and bodies poised for bloodshed.

Here, she had no wand, no magic powers, having tried for days on end. All she did have was the determination of a mother to protect her son. She charged at them, screaming a war-cry that James had told her was the ancient family motto, "DRIVE BACK THE DARK!!!" They rushed at her, their claws drawing first blood along her shoulder. She didn't stop and threw vicious punches and kicks in every direction, shouting curses at the unearthly beasts. Her hands lashed out in the shape of claws, each hit that came into contact with one of them, left a blazing white line along their bodies. She continued to lash out, her fervor to protect her son, giving her the strength to vanquish the demons in front of her.

When she had struck a blow to the last one at its chest, it screamed a demonic howl, the darkness of the void being sucked into its mouth, pulling it in. When it imploded upon itself, the room was now bathed in light save for a darkened corner. From the corner, tentacles of an oily black crept along the ground, leeching onto the walls. It proceeded to eat away at the room, trying to claim it back, trying to bathe her in the darkness once again. It stopped, inches away from her face, a set of crimson eyes glowing in front of her. The Darkness pulled in on itself, taking a form that she knew all too well.

He stood in front of her, those red eyes, sitting in a face that was snake-like, his scales seeming to gleam. He smiled cruelly at her, a slight hint of fangs showing through the corners of his mouth. A Dementor-like cloak thrown over his thin body, billowing somehow without the aid of a wind. His scaly hands, ending in pointed nails that were crusted with blood, wrapped around a pair of wands. One, a startling ivory white, a skull carved into the base of it and in the other hand was her oak wand. He looked disapprovingly at her, clucking his tongue, making a _tsk_ sound.

She knew what she looked like; hair in disarray, matted and in desperate need of shampoo; face streaked with a mixture of blood, dirt and tears; her clothes in tatters, numerous claw marks over her pale skin; hands and nails caked with the black blood of the demons. None of that mattered, for standing in front of her, a form of all her fears put together, and the source of this hellish realm was before her.

His mouth was moving, forming words that she didn't bother to hear. Cocking her fist back, she swung at his face, hearing a satisfying crunch as what was left of his nose, broke cleanly, the blood pouring down his face. She saw the shock on his face just for a second before it was replaced with pain as she kicked him straight in the ribs. He landed down on the floor, grunting with pain. She was on him in seconds, kicking, clawing, and punching at him, never giving him a moment to rest. She viciously kneed him in the juncture between his legs several times in quick succession. Grabbing him by the collar of his robes, she lifted him up and began to beat his face to a bloody pulp.

She felt her hand break, but she continued to relentlessly beat his face in. By the time she was done, he was a mass of broken bones, bruised flesh rapidly turning purple, and cartilage being relentlessly broken and twisted, blood freely pouring down his chin and onto his robes. Still, through all that, he just stayed there, smirking that damn smirk of his. He chuckled, the blood oozing down his slit lips.

"You call me…a monster? Look at you…how easily you…took to the violence…the brutality and…savageness you have…inside you," he paused as he drew a breath in through a raspy chuckle, bubbles of blood forming slightly on the edges of his mouth. "You are….the monster…"

He went into a maniacal laughter and before she had the chance to respond, his body vanished in that same smoky haze like everything else had in this damn dream. Her body pitched forward, chin hitting the ground as she no longer had something to support. Struggling to her feet, she looked at the spot where Voldemort had been. Nothing was there, no ashes, no cloak, no body, not a trace that he had ever been there. She looked about the room, searching for him, waiting to see if he would come back out again. All she did see was a large ladder. Standing at the base of it, she looked up to see the ladder leading up into what appeared to be the Hogwarts hospital wing.

It was a long climb and she did have a slight fear of heights. But with everything she had just done moments ago, she didn't seem that afraid of heights anymore. She started to climb.

(Scene Break)

He was trapped in a bleak forest; the trees twisted in menacing shapes, faces contorted in pain were carved onto the trunks of the trees. The branches swung about, aiming for his head. He ducked and ran down the dirt trodden path. More branches twisted and curved into his way, caging him in. Black ooze leaked like sap from the branches, pooling together, and various forms rising up from the liquid. It was happening again, his past coming back to haunt him.

First up was a cat that he had killed by accident in a prank gone wrong. He had colored it completely back and placed on the back step of one of his neighbors. She was deathly afraid of black cats and when she had seen the freshly painted cat on her door step, she blew its skull open with a spell. Its head had opened up like a ripe melon, a dying meow spilling out of the cats mouth as blood and grey matter leaked down the sides of his head. He had thrown up at the sight and cried himself to sleep for what he had done. It was just a prank; it wasn't supposed to turn out that way. The thought never eased his conscience.

Second, came the tall and lanky firm of Severus Snape. His whole body and face was a compilation of all the pranks James had ever played on him. The boils, the ugly brown skin from the numerous colored dyes, the over-grown teeth, everything he had done to Snape. He had to duck and weave as Snape started to spit curses at him, a malevolent gleam in his eye. He was afraid that Snape would lash out one day and he hoped that it wasn't aimed towards his son.

Next was the skeletal corpse of Evan Rosier. He was pulled up by strings, like a wicked version of a marionette, his left arm barely connected to his shoulder by a sliver of sinew and bone. His right was contorted at odd angles, having been broken in numerous directions. His flesh was horribly bruised, ugly purple blotches being seen when blood didn't cover it. Numerous cuts on his ragged form, ugly scabs that had formed only to be broken open later, burns all over his body making him look ever more gruesome. In his hand, fingers bent awkwardly, he was somehow holding onto a wand that was cracked down the middle, blackened at the edges from a fire.

Rosier was the worst of his crimes that James had ever committed. It was supposed to be a simple raid on the Rosier manor, searching for any dark-arts related items. They were hoping to find enough to drag Evan Rosier into Azkaban on charges, instead they found him in the middle of a ritual, a child held down onto a table as Rosier repeatedly brought down a knife into the young girls chest. There were five of them there that night, witnesses to the horror, and each of them left their mark on Rosier's dead corpse. That night still haunted James every now and then, he knew it did the same to Sirius too, Moody had gotten over it by his usual methods, and the other two had died in the line of duty.

All three images were in front of him, the horrid cat making a choked meow, causing James to fall down onto his arse as he tried to get away. Snape moved in for the kill, swishing his wand down, a rust-colored spell connecting with his kneecap. He screamed as heard and felt the awful break, cartilage being torn apart. Rosier moved in swiftly, dragging himself along the rotten earth, his legs having been sawed off at the knee by a severing curse from one of the now dead aurors. The wand that was in his hand had turned into a crude knife and it was stabbed down into James stomach.

He howled in pain, rolling along the ground, his hands clutching the bleeding wound. Those three figures of his past swam in front of him, all of them stepping closer, wielding their weapon of choice; claws, wand, and a knife. Clenching his eyes shut, James furiously whispered to himself that none of this was real. It was just another plague of nightmares in the long series that he has had since stepping into this dark forest.

In the hospital bed, outside the dream, James hands were clasped together over his stomach, putting pressure on an imaginary wound. In the dream, he heard the padding of footsteps, sloshing through the mud, moving closer towards him. It started to rain in the forest, streaking his face with grime. He opened his eyes and in front of him he saw Rosier's smiling face right in front of him.

"Did you enjoy killing me? Did you feel the rush of adrenaline, the pounding in your ears, as you joined in the bloody massacre of my death?" Rosier croaked. A cruel laugh, the sound of rough sandpaper, issued from his dry lips. "Do you try to justify yourself at night, laying in your bed, with your woman? Telling yourself that what you did to me was out of righteous anger?" he said as his smile grew even wider with each word. Raising his free hand in front of him, his broken index finger slowly wagged back and forth, the bone being broken anew every time he did so.

He was shoved out of the way, his now skeletal face sliding down in the mud, as Snape took center stage. "You and your silly pranks, Potter. Despicable, a creature you are. You think everything you did to me was harmless? I was humiliated for seven years thanks to you, and because of that I have nothing!" he yelled into James face, spittle flying from his purple lips.

James head was blown back as Snape's fist connected with his mouth. Falling onto his back, he rolled to the side and spit out blood and some jarred teeth. The cat, with its head split open, came in front of him, his claws coming down to scratch him across his cheek. He grunted in pain and he felt sick all of a sudden, the start of a fever coming down. He started to shiver, delusions starting; his wife, spitting insults at him, never having truly forgiven for his brash attitude towards pranks that had done so much harm; his son, his baby boy, Harry, looking at him and then turning away in disgust, sick of his pompous attitude. So many different faces, saying and doing so many different things, each one chipping away at his remaining sanity. He curled up into his body, sobbing into his knees as the delusions became worse and worse.

Just when he was at his breaking point, he heard a loud creak and a part of the ground lifted up and through the new hole came a head of red-hair. A pair of green eyes came up next, Lily's eyes. She came running to him and he took a good look at her slashed clothes and haggard appearance. Another delusion, he thought, until her hand stroked his cheek in an affectionate manner, and it felt real. Her hands shook his shoulders, keeping him awake.

"Fight it, James! Fight it! For me! For Harry, your son! We have to get out of here, we have to get to Harry!" she shouted into his face. Her hands hooked under his armpits and he felt himself being lifted and set onto his feet. "None of this is real, James! None of it!" she shouted again.

He shook his rapidly, "It is real! I did all this! I've done this!"

He felt a stinging blow across his cheek. Looking back at her with wide eyes, he saw the image that he had fell in love with. Her hair whipped across her face, hands on her hips, those lovely eyes gleaming in anger. Oh, she looked even more beautiful when she angry, such a spitfire.

"None of that matters right now! We can go over whatever guilt you may have at another time." Her voice dropped to a lower decibel as she moved closer to him, her warm body pressed up against his. She whispered, "We have to get out of here. If we don't, who know what may happen to Harry. For our son, Harry, James you have to fight it."

He rested his forehead against hers, having to lean down slightly he said, "You got it, Lily-love. Just give me a mo' okay?"

He turned back to face his monsters without waiting for her answer. Charging forward, his pain momentarily forgotten, he swung his fist at Snape's throat, forcing the other man to fall down to his knees trying to draw in breath. The cat came at him, claws poised for a strike. He branched out with a roundhouse kick to its belly, sending it careening into Snape's temple. They were both out for the count and he turned to Rosier, ready to put him out. Instead he saw Voldemort, looking exactly as he had left him at the end of their battle at Godric's Hollow.

"What I told you was true, Potter. You would make an excellent Death Eater, capable of replacing Rosier in the Inner Circle, maybe over time even denouncing Lucius Malfoy as my right hand man. You have the carnal rage for death in your blood, Potter. You would be exceptional, extraordinary, and your son as well. So much potential in such a small body."

James was grinding his teeth together, anger swelling up in him at Voldemort's words. He quelled it down, determined not to let it rush over him like the rising tide. Through gritted teeth, he whispered, "You are never…and I mean never, going to touch my son."

He jumped forward, landing at a right hook at Voldemort's eye. As he turned, James grabbed his arm, pulled it taut and slammed the point of his elbow down onto Voldemort's, hearing the clean breaking of bone. Not letting go, he pulled the arm straight over up his opponents head and threw several punches at the junction of shoulder and arm. He heard something snap and he let go of the arm. He swung a kick at the small of Voldemort's back, sending him crashing down onto his hands and knees. He dug the heel of his boot into his back, twisting and turning it, shoving it deeper.

Grabbing the back of Voldemort's cloak, James lifted him up and leaned down to whisper into his ear, "You will never lay a hand on my son."

Voldemort barked a wet laugh, blood flying from his mouth, "He will…die, Potter. And when he is gone…you and your…mudblood shall follow…" He continued to laugh, the sound starting to grate on James' nerves, until he finally stopped, his eyes blank. James stood up on his own two feet, watching as Voldemort went up in flames, ashes being cast out into the wind.

He felt a pair of arms encircle around his waist. Knowing that it was Lily, he let his body slump, feeling her cheek rest against his back. She moved around in front of him and cradled his head in her hands. She smiled that million galleon smile, which never failed to brighten his day, "Come on James. Lets get to Harry."

In response, he wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on top of her head. Looking around for an exit, he finally saw that all the trees had vanished, the rain as well along with the rest of the forest. They were standing on a grassy knoll and inexplicably there was a door in front of them. Grabbing her hand, he led them towards the door and opened it. He squinted his eyes against the light and led Lily through the door, hopefully to their son.

(Scene Break)

He woke up with a start, his upper body slamming upright, and his breathing heavy as he drew in deep, raspy breaths. He was shivering all over, his teeth chattering, hands frantically rubbing his opposite arms to heat himself up. He looked to his right and he saw her. He grinned as he saw her slowly turn her head to look at him. Getting off the bed, amidst her protests to stay in bed, he stood on wobbly legs, his hands gripping the arm rails for support. She tried glaring at him, but he saw the playful attitude behind her lovely eyes.

Taking a leap to cross the gap, he fell onto his knees, not minding the pain in the slightest as he wrapped his arms around her petite frame. He cried joyfully into his hair, tears streaking down his face as he was reunited with Lily. He had thought he was a goner when Voldemort had hit him with that spell. He only remembered certain parts of the nightmare he was trapped in, one being the protective instinct he felt for his son, Lily and the way she helped him focus, and the end with Voldemort.

He pressed kisses against the side of her head and held her even closer. He felt her plush lips press against his neck and despite the moment, it still sent shivers down his body in pleasure. Holding her at arms length, he slowly looked over her face, searching for all the bruises and scratches he had seen in that nightmare. He sighed in relief, "You're okay…"

He kept his eyes fixed on hers, as her small hands stroked and caressed his face. She sighed in relief as well, "You too…" He kissed her lightly on the lips, putting just a slight hint of pressure, careful to not get too absorbed in the feel of her lips. Pulling back he kissed her on her forehead and then her nose, hugging her close again after that. They stayed like that until the full rush of memories slammed back into their minds. Pulling apart, they both asked each other the same question.

"Where's Harry?" A pause. They both turned their heads and shouted at the top of their lungs, "HARRY!!!"

James heard the wailing first. He tried to run towards the sound, but he fell down. Pulling himself along the ground using his hands and forearms, he entered a room, obviously a nursery by the looks of it. Standing up with the aid of the changing table, he slowly walked over to the crib to see Harry. He broke out into a grin, a tear falling down on his son's forehead, causing the babe to stop his crying to see what had fallen on him.

With grubby hands and giggling laughter, Harry extended his arms for James. He picked him up happily and cradled him in his arms, rocking him back and forth. He called for Lily and she came in a moment later, slowly, but steadily walking on her own two feet. She hurried her pace the last few steps and lovingly ran her fingers down Harry's face, tickling him in certain spots much to his amusement.

For ten minutes they stayed rooted to the spot, James holding him in his arms, just letting his eyes wander over his son, so thankful that he was still here to be with him. For the duration, Lily kept stroking his cheek, running her fingers through his hair, and kissing his face every now and then. Soon, the child grew tired, having woken up from his sleep and he yawned, placing a pudgy fist in his mouth to cover the noise like he had seen James done before.

James felt a hand tap his shoulder, making him spin quickly, protectively holding Harry close to his chest. He only saw Pomfrey, but he didn't drop his defensive stance. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lily ready to fight. They had already been betrayed by a friend, one of their closest. They needed to be sure that this was actually Madame Pomfrey.

"Fifth year. The quidditch match where I broke my leg. After everyone left, what did I say?" he asked in clipped sentences.

"'Did Lily Evans stop by before I woke up?' was what you said. I told you that she didn't and then you bit into one of those chocolate frogs Sirius gave, which promptly turned you red and gold," she said with a small smile.

James sighed in relief and slowly rocked his yawning son, the motions easing him into sleep. He sat down on one of the blue chairs in the nursery, still holding Harry, listening with half an ear as Pomfrey and Lily talked. Harry cracked open one eye and James placed a kiss right above it to the child's sleepy giggles. His son fell asleep and James held him close to his chest, leaning back in the chair. He was desperately trying to hold onto the remains of his nightmare, knowing somehow that they would be important later on in life. He could barely remember them now, most of the details having slipped away, but he knew that they were a type of warning. A message hidden in those macabre images, telling him how to protect Harry. But he was forgetting already, maybe Lily would remember hers.

He opened his eyes, when he felt Harry taken from his arms. He was about to jump up and start throwing curses, but he saw it was Lily holding Harry. He sighed, knowing that it would take him a long time to get over this extreme sense of protective instinct he felt towards his son. He would do anything to keep him safe right now at this moment. He stood up, the stiff muscles making him double over a little bit. He popped his back, the muscles now loosening and stepped over to Lily who was busy singing a lullaby to Harry, one that had been sung to her from her mom.

He wanted to stay with his son a little bit longer, but James was already starting to feel tired. He stifled his yawn in the same manner that Harry did earlier, winking lazily at Lily who was smiling at his antics. After Lily placed their son in his crib, James leaned down and placed a kiss on Harry's forehead. He pulled back and turned to ask Pomfrey a few questions: what day was it? How long had it been since the attack on Godric's Hollow? He got his answers: It was Tuesday, three days since the attack. He wanted to know what had happened to Sirius and the others, but he yawned again, signaling that he should get some rest.

He and Lily lay in their separate beds, subjecting themselves to a five minute check up to make sure things were in working order. When Pomfrey was done and she had gone back into her private quarters, James waited another five minutes until the light in her rooms went out. Quietly getting out of bed and padding towards Lily, he got into bed with her. She was already asleep, but when he laid down next to her she snuggled into him, quietly whispering his name in her sleep. He yawned for a final time before slipping his arms around her body and following her into dreamland, hoping that no nightmares would come tonight.

(Scene Break)

James woke up several hours later, the sound of laughter having roused him from his dreams. He opened in his slowly, not wanting to see too much of the sun that flooded the hospital wing. He swung his legs off the bed, or tried to anyway. He muttered a curse as his toes hit the cold metal of the arm rails. Unlocking them and putting them down, he got off the bed, bare feet coming into contact with the cold stone. Tip-toeing across the room, hands rubbing together to provide warmth, he sat down next to Lily who was currently feeding Harry.

James just looked on at his son, who was bawling at the fact that he had to eat some type of green mush for breakfast. After what had just happened with the attack by Voldemort, James felt extremely protective of Harry and was constantly checking to see if he was there. He attributed it to the fact that he and his wife had just survived the wrath of the most powerful dark lord since Grindewald. And hey, he was allowed to be like this after having his trousers scared off him.

The doors opened and he craned his head to see Sirius and Remus come through them. He stood up and held his arms wide open and shouted, "Padfoot! Moony!"

He was reunited with his friends and they stayed upright, clutching onto each other. They pulled back, all smiles, each rapidly talking, ecstatic at having been reunited. They only stopped when Pomfrey and Lily shushed all three of them, reminding them they were still in the hospital wing.

They rushed out and stepped into an empty classroom. Sitting down, James fired question after question about what had happened. Peter had been captured and arrested two days after the attack. Voldemort was dead, the Death Eaters were scattered, some believing their lord was dead had either surrendered themselves or had committed suicide runs against the ministry.

Also, James found out that his baby boy was a hero. He couldn't believe it personally. Little Harry, the little tyke that always seemed to wet himself anytime he was on James' lap was the savior of the wizarding world; the Boy-Who-Lived. For a moment his face was filled with fatherly pride, his boy having done something that no one else had been able to do, not even Dumbledore. But it quickly faded; people would be constantly hounding for Harry to appear somewhere, expect him to be this great heroic icon. Reporters would be looming on their doorstep at every single moment, like a pack of hungry coyotes, waiting for Harry to show one messy black curl and then they would pounce.

And that wasn't even the worst part. There were still followers of Voldemort out there and some of them, the rich and influential ones, would be able to worm their way out of going to Azkaban. Some of them were prominent figures in the Ministry, like Lucius Malfoy, and it would make perfect sense for them to want to pay a visit to their savior. Then while they were doting on Harry with false pride, a quick draw of a wand or a knife and his boy would be in danger. Countless scenarios were running through his head, each one more dreadful than the last, and each one with Harry in danger.

He was breathing too fast; his heart was beating like mad. A panic attack brought on from his fears. Sirius and Remus rushed to him, their chairs clattering onto the stone ground with a loud bang, hands clutching his shoulders, calm words being spoken from his right, panicked ones from his left. Footsteps and then another loud bang, a window being thrown open he realized as a strong breeze blew throughout the room. The fresh Scotland air, a hint of rain, calmed him down as he took deep, refreshing breaths.

He took another gulp of air before he finally calmed down enough to speak. Without looking at his best mates, he told them what went through his mind to make him panic like that. When he was done, he saw worry in their faces, brows knitted together. They were like Uncles to Harry, Sirius being his Godfather actually, but they were their when he was born and James had been through so much with both of them.

A pang of sadness hit him when he realized that there should be three uncles; Sirius, Remus, and Peter. It was ruthlessly banished when James remembered what Peter had done and how close his family had come to dying that night.

Chairs were righted back up, this time closer to his own. Knees bumping, heads down as they conversed in low tones, well he listened actually, they did the talking. Sirius with a feral smile on his face, discussing various pranks that could be laid out near Godrics Hollow to discourage any unwanted visitors. Remus speaking in that calm voice of his about how the Ministry would understand if James didn't want anybody visiting in order to protect Harry.

Still with their encouragement, James wasn't sure he could keep so many people away. Practically everybody in Wizarding society would be looking up to his son, whether they were young or old all because of some unexplainable defeat of the greatest dark lord since Grindewald. He didn't know what to do, but he had somebody in mind that could, or at the very least offer suggestions and help him. He had to see Dumbledore. But not yet, not until he told Lily, she deserved to know about this if she didn't already.

(Scene Break)

It was dark out, she noticed as she shifted her son to her other arm. Lily was currently in the Gryffindor common room, their current living quarters until Godric's Hollow was rebuilt. The students had been temporarily sent home with the defeat of the Dark Lord to celebrate with their families. It would take less than a week for her home to be rebuilt according to what James had told her, who had heard from Remus...

A set of arms were wrapped around her waist, pulling her close and she gratefully leaned into her husband's embrace. She had just learned the popularity of her son, her little boy who was now a hero. She didn't think much on it when he just said it, but the look on his face spook volumes. Usually his hazel eyes were sparkling in mischief and joy for a prank to yet be pulled, but moments ago they were clouded over. Then he kept talking about how the people were practically singing praises to Harry in the streets and then she realized what it all meant. Her family wouldn't have a moment's peace. People would be there at every waking moment and her son would be at the center of the wizarding world for months to come, possibly years.

She looked down at her son, his chubby little hands clutching a plush wolf toy, his current plush of the month to James' disappointment and Remus' silent amusement. But what plush he was currently fond of wasn't what she was concerned with. She stared at the lighting-shaped scar on his forehead, still red and angry, a reminder of what they had been through, and now a symbol that people would constantly be staring at every single time they saw her little boy.

She sighed as she burrowed closer into James, his hands rubbing her arms, giving her what comfort he could. His lips were pressed to the side of her head and if she listened closely, she could hear him whispering over and over again something in Latin. When she found out that he spoke Latin, she thought it was a farce. Who thought that James Potter, prankster extraordinaire could speak another language so fluently and beautifully? He told her later that it was a Potter tradition to learn Latin, something that every father taught to his sons and daughters.

"What are you whispering?" she asked in low, velvet tones as she turned her head up to look at him. His eyes locked with hers and one of his hands started to run through her hair.

"Light, give me strength," he said in a low timbre, fingers still running through her hair. "Dad taught it to me. It was the first thing I learned to say in Latin." He looked away from her, towards the mantel above the roaring fireplace, watching as the hands on the oak clock ticked by. His hands went still, "Almost time for our meeting with Dumbledore. We should get going."

She came to her senses and looked at the clock as well. 7:50 PM. Yes, it was almost time to talk with Dumbledore, an appointment James had made earlier. She stood up first and then waited silently as he followed. Usually when they walked somewhere, they walked at the same pace, their hands linked, both of them presenting a front of equality between them. It was one of the feminist things that she had to drill into James' head, along with telling him that she was perfectly capable of opening doors by herself instead of waiting for him to do it like some gallant knight from the stories.

Tonight though, she wanted to soak in his embrace, to acknowledge that she needed him right now. So, when he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close to his sturdy body, she didn't protest, merely nuzzled his chest lightly before walking with him. In no time at all, they were standing at the entrance to the Headmaster's office, the stone gargoyle with it's sloping brow and powerful jaws staring down at them. It slid open for them without waiting for a password.

She thought it was hilarious that the guardian to the Headmaster's office was afraid of James. After he had dressed up the gargoyle in a pink tutu and decorated his horns with flowers, the guardian let him through without hearing the password in fear of being the victim of a prank again. She always laughed every time he just moved to reveal the winding staircase. She couldn't seem to find it funny tonight though.

They were at the door, a brass knocker in the shape of a griffin adorning it. She heard some movement below and a small yawn, her son attempting to snuggle closer into her. She tucked the forest green blanket with a stag on it closer around his body and pulled the small, green fleece cap closer around his head, making sure to cover his ears. The castle was awfully drafty in the months of November and December.

The door opened and they stepped through, walking towards the polished oak desk, the benevolent Headmaster sitting behind it in one of his patented chairs with the high backing and purple cushions. She heard the door close, an ominous sound as the hinges creaked while they sat themselves down in chairs similar to Dumbledore's but of a different color.

She found herself straightening out an imaginary skirt, a habit she picked up at Hogwarts from any time she thought she was in trouble, most of the time it had only turned out to have been a level of praise heaped on her for her skill. She forced her hands to still and brought her head up to meet Dumbledore's, she still had trouble calling him by his given name, looking at her with concern in his pale blue eyes. She nodded to say she was okay and then he turned to look back at James who was currently talking, having missed the little byplay between her and Albus.

When James was done, he looked up from the ground and looked straight at Albus and whispered, "Can you help us?"

Albus' hands linked together forming a bridge for his chin to wrest on, elbows on the desk, seeming to take forever to answer. When he did, his voice seemed tired, a far cry from the grandfatherly one that was always present, "Since the night of October 31, I knew that Voldemort was still not dead. His spirit still lingers, somewhere that I do not know. He is a ghost of his former self, but he is still alive, still brimming with knowledge. He will eventually come back. When, I do not know, but he will return. You both know the prophecy; both know that we must protect Harry…"

He was cut off as she spoke in a harsh whisper, her voice like steel, "My son will not be the figure through which the light rallies around."

He nodded slowly, conceding her point. He continued, "Nonetheless, Voldemort knows of the Prophecy. And with his defeat, Voldemort will target Harry more ruthlessly when he regains his body. His followers knew of the attack on your persons, something told to me from my sources. They may seek to harm Harry in anger and revenge for defeating their lord. Your son will, will be the target of future attacks."

Her hand found James and she squeezed, a sense of comfort and strength seemingly flowing into her. What Dumbledore just said had confirmed their fears.

"We know that. WE know that our son will be in danger until every one of those bloody tossers are behind Azkaban. We came to you for help to keep our son safe. Now…can you help us?" said James.

"I have done some research and I have come across a spell that shall enable your son to live the first eleven years of his life free," said Albus in a careful tone.

"Eleven? Why only eleven?" asked Lily.

"I take it that on his eleventh birthday, you will wish to have him enrolled at Hogwarts?" said Albus.

They both nodded, Lily and James, but Lily was confused. The way he phrased that sentence made it seem as if…

"The spell will protect him from anyone who seeks to harm Harry in some way. It does not allow these people to cross the boundaries of the house. A more powerful version of the Fidelus charm that hid your home, but it has an even more serious flaw," said Albus. At their confused looks, he elaborated, "The Fidelus requires that someone else is named secret keeper and that this person is trusted with the lives of the residents under the charm. The spell I have found requires however a sacrifice of sorts on the person. The keeper must willingly take the people, in this case one, into their homes. Also the secret keeper must, must be of a blood relation."

James and Lily looked at each other in confusion. For all intents and purposes, this spell seemed no more different than a Fidelus charm. It just had the bonus of not allowing anybody to get into the house should they ever get the secret and was more restrictive in who was your keeper.

"That doesn't seem too bad…" said James, trailed off James as he realized that he had no living relatives left and that Lily's parents were dead as well.

"The only option that I can see, a place where no one would suspect the hero of the wizarding world to be, is hidden amongst the muggles. In order for this to work, there must be no contact whatsoever between Harry and magic. He must not appear in any magical environments and must not come into contact with any wizard or witch"

Lily squeezed James' hand, her nails digging into his skin, eyes wide as she processed what Albus had said. She whispered furiously at him, "Harry will not be staying with my sister. She hates everything to do with magic, hates me and she would surely hate my son. And my son WILL NOT be taken from me."

"Now Lily, don't be too harsh on your sister. She is blood after all and I'm sure that she would not hate your son. He is only a babe and no one is so cruel as to spurn a child, especially one of their own flesh."

"You don't know her. Two weeks before our wedding, James and I went to invite her and she practically chased us out with that walrus of a husband because we brought mud into her house from our shoes. And that was just for dirtying her floor. When I brought out my wand to clean it, she shouted at the top of her lungs for us to get out of her home and take that unnaturalness with us."

"She's right Albus. Lily's sister, Petunia, hates anything to do with magic. There is no way that she would ever willingly take our son into her home. AND we would never give him up. Now, help us think of something that will allow us to keep our son with us," said James.

Albus stood up from his chair, hands braced on the desk, his voice rising as he tried to make them see sense, "This is the only way. To be safe from Voldemort and his followers, he must be in a place that they would never even think about. Much less, even consider stepping into any place that remotely seems muggle. And any accidental magic episodes will just be recorded in a muggle neighborhood. The ministry does not keep a detailed track of the names of children that have bouts of accidental magic before the age of eleven."

"Our son will not be staying with anyone else besides us!" shouted James as he stood up from his chair, knocking it to the ground.

The shouting and the noise of the fallen chair had woken up Harry, who was now wailing. James continued to shout at Dumbledore and Albus' infinite patience vanished as he tried to argue his point. Lily rocked Harry back and forth, trying to shush him but he continued to cry. Humming a lullaby did nothing nor did anything else. It wasn't until another voice joined everyone else's that things finally settled down.

Fawkes glided down from his perch, his trill calming down everyone save Harry who continued to cry. It wasn't until the phoenix nuzzled his feathered head against Harry's that he finally quieted down, now cooing at the bird. She looked at James and Albus to see both of them breathing heavy, their sudden anger now gone. James righted his chair and sat back down as did Albus. It was the stiff and tired motions of the Headmaster that garnered her attention.

Every time that she saw him, he looked young and spry for his age, a exuberant child in a elderly body. Now though, he looked ancient, frail, and vulnerable. His hands slowly moved along his desk, the action seeming to take all his strength. And when he pulled out a small bottle full of a green liquid with a small glass tumbler, she gasped in shock. After he drank one glassful, he looked at them, eyes clouded over, not brought by the drink, but something like sadness.

"Forgive me for my outburst. I tend to forget the people involved when I decide in my mind the outcome for the greater good. But you must understand this is the best way to ensure your son's safety. Who would suspect the Boy-Who-Lived, destroyer of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, to live amongst muggles? I can add spells to the entire neighborhood that will prevent any person with magical abilities to enter. And if there is no contact between Harry and the wizarding world, then there is no reason for him to bring attention to himself and bring his enemies to him," said Albus. He had gone quieter near the end of the speech, but it didn't take any of the passion out of his voice.

Lily looked at her son, having gone back to sleep after Fawkes trilled a song for him. All she could think about was keeping her son safe. She wanted to stay with him; she wanted to be a part of his life. She knew that it was partly selfish, to be with her son despite putting his life at an even greater risk. But it was her right as a mother to be with her son…still, she valued his life more than her own happiness. She saw a droplet of water on Harry's cheek and she realized she was crying.

There was the sound of a chair scraping the carpet as it was pushed back. James knelt next to her, arms wrapping around her and Harry, cheek pressed against hers and she felt the dampness of it. She continued to look at Harry as she heard James broken voice, "He'll be…safe?" She heard something that sounded like a "yes" from Dumbledore.

"You promise…?" she said, barely recognizing her anguished whisper. Another "yes" was said. She buried her face in the crook of James' neck, his arms coming around her tighter. She spoke again in a broken whisper, "When…?"

"A week from now. I suggest that you return to your quarters and spend as much time with your son as you can. I know this pains you greatly, but remember, remember that you are doing this to save your son, and possibly by extension, everyone else."

"And how would you know? How many sons have you given up?" said James, anger marring his features. He sighed in regret for his words and mumbled an apology to Dumbledore.

"Let's go James…I want to put Harry to bed," she whispered against his skin.

Soon after, they were out of Dumbledore's office, their footsteps loud in the silent night. She was burrowed into James' side again, Harry close to her own body, the need to be as close as possible at the front of her mind. How in the world had she agreed to this insanely stupid plan?! Giving up her son to her sister who hates anything to do with magic, to agree to not see her son for until his eleventh birthday?! What could have possibly made her say yes to Dumbledork's plan? She would tell him tomorrow that she changed her mind, tell him that there is no way in hell that she would give up…

She looked down as Harry yawned, his arms and legs stretching lightly. He looked so cute and innocent, so vulnerable. He was so young and people would try to talk to him and touch some part of his body if they ever went out in public. She hugged him closer to her body as if she could protect him from everyone else.

They had already climbed up six flights of stairs, now at the entrance to the Gryffindor house. They swept past the portrait of the Fat Lady and moved into the rooms that had been set up for them. Most of the furnishings in the room were a chocolate brown, complete with a writing desk and a four poster bed. Dumbledore had the Hogwarts elves add a crib as well. She moved over to it, running her hand along the oak, gleaming from the polishing the house elves had given it.

She gently placed Harry into it, tucking the blankets over his body, fingers gliding past his chubby cheeks and small belly. She felt like crying, already knowing that the determination she had built up to tell Dumbledore no was gone. To protect her son, she was willing to do anything, even if it meant giving him up to keep him safe. She wanted to stay with him, surely her and James could go hide somewhere with Harry where no one will find them. Still, people would still be looking for them and they would expect Harry to be with them. If Harry was somewhere else and they stayed in the public's eye, then Harry truly would be safe from anyone, never thinking that he might be somewhere else.

After placing a kiss on Harry's temple, she climbed into bed, not even bothering to change into her night clothes. She noticed James had done the same and she saw from the look in his eyes that he had given into Dumbledore's plan. She felt a bead of moisture fall down from the corner of her eye and she eagerly climbed into James' open arms. She sobbed against his neck, knowing that she decided on this course of action to save Harry. She felt drops of water fall onto her head and she knew James was crying as well, silently, but crying nonetheless.

She wrapped her arms around him tighter, falling into an uneasy sleep, her son sleeping soundlessly in his crib.

**A/N: This took forever to get out. I had no problem writing the beginning, but then I hit a massive case of writer's block in the middle. The end was written pretty smoothly from my head. Sorry this took so long.**

**Okay the next chapter we have the goodbye sending at the Dursley's. From there, I'll have various scenes that show the aftermath of their decision. The years will go by quickly. I'll just showcase major events in their lives without Harry. That's for the fourth chapter. The fifth deals with some more events and then we get to the scene where they go to pick up Harry on his eleventh birthday.**

**And from chapter six and on, the story now becomes Harry-centric. Just wait a while and it'll get there.**


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